


a chance encounter with kindness

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3411611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I might be doing this because of my mother,” says Maya, “and because it’s the right thing to do. But when the time comes, I’m going to listen to your orders because you’re not going to ask me – ask any of us – to do anything that you wouldn’t do first."</p><p>Maya and Bellamy have a conversation about the complicated nature of loyalty. [Post 2x13: Resurrection]</p>
            </blockquote>





	a chance encounter with kindness

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta-ed and a super indulgent fic because I'm super soft for both Maya and Bellamy and have been rooting for the development of their friendship since the near instantaneous trust and respect they've had for each other since their introduction. 
> 
> Please enjoy reading!!

“Sorry we couldn’t get you a proper bed,” says Maya, looking well and truly apologetic as she hands Bellamy some soft pillows and blankets. “I can vouch for how comfortable this couch is though. I must have passed out on it more than a hundred times and my back is only sort of deformed. Only hurts when it rains.”

“Sounds like a pretty useful weather detector to me,” says Bellamy. “What, with being under a mountain and all.” He manages to smile slightly when Maya laughs in response even though his finger involuntarily clutch tighter at the pile of bedding. Somberly, he continues, “But this is more than enough. Thank you.”

Maya waves it off. 

“It’s nothing,” she says. Then, more disapprovingly, “I can’t believe you were just gonna take a nap in the corner of the furniture storage area. What if it the President decided he needed a new chair?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Bellamy can hear how sheepish he sounds, but there is absolutely nothing about Maya’s expression that suggests she’s anything other than concerned and amused. She’s a good one, and he thanks whoever it is that’s looking out for them that the kids found her in here.

Maya stands there and watches as Bellamy places the pillows on one end of the couch and throws the blanket on the other, wringing her hands. Lucky as they all were to find Maya, Bellamy regrets the worry that lines her face, apparent in the wrinkles between her eyebrows. He removes the cap of the guards’ uniform from his head and places it on the coffee table, but doesn’t think he can bring himself to take anything else off. He doesn't ever remember feeling as exposed and vulnerable as he does in Mount Weather.

“You sure you don’t want some of dad’s old clothes?” asks Maya. “Can you even fall asleep in that.”

“Hey, just a second ago you were going on about me sleeping on the floor somewhere. I think it’s obvious that I can nod off anywhere.” 

Maya doesn’t look any less concerned. Bellamy realizes that there’s definitely more going on here than just Maya being an overly fussy host – though that could be part of it, too – and he wonders if he should’ve talked to her about it, earlier. After all, she’s been part of the ever lengthening list of people Bellamy thinks of as _his_ without even consciously registering it, from the moment she looked at him in the eyes and said, “No, I’m in,” with determination so unwavering that he was reminded, unexpectedly, of Octavia.

Even though they’re at the precipice of war, Bellamy thinks that for tonight, there might be some time for comfort. Lightly, he continues, “Don’t forget that if there’s an emergency, I can’t just run out of here in a t-shirt and my underwear.”

It does the trick: Maya’s forehead smoothens, even if the tension doesn’t quite leave her body.

“Well,” says Maya, lips quirking into a grin. “You could. I’m sure no one would mind.

This startles a laugh out of him.

“You should get some rest,” says Bellamy settling down on the sofa which is, as promised, amazingly soft. “You’ve already done a lot for us, Maya, but we’ll need you and your people’s help tomorrow, too.”

It’s a reality that’s hard for him to swallow but cannot be ignored. Maya almost died for them earlier today, almost died _because_ of them. She’s doing this because it’s the right thing to do and it seems almost perverse to continue to ask someone already so generous for more – perhaps even more so because she would offer and come through regardless of what he says – but it has to be done. 

There is too much at stake now, and Bellamy is only grateful that the folks here who’ve chosen to help them, they understand. This might have started out with them wanting their people back but now it’s grown into something bigger, more than himself and his friends and the army of grounders coming their way. 

Maya, unsurprisingly, does not head out. Instead she sits down on the edge of the coffee table and says, “Don’t think I can, honestly. I haven’t been able to sleep properly for – well, it’s gotta be weeks now.”

Bellamy frowns. He’s noticed that she has dark circles under her eyes, an almost sickly pallor to her skin but it didn’t seem like his place to ask – not they even had time for it. “Why not?”

“Stress, mostly?” Maya laughs a little, though it doesn’t contain a trace of joy. “It’s hard to relax when you’re afraid that your friends are going to die, or that the President and the guards are going to knock down the door and drag you away and probably kill you for helping said friends.”

There’s a pause. Bellamy doesn’t even know how to start addressing all that. 

“That,” he starts, and then stops; what can he possibly say that will ever be enough to convey how humbled he feels, the outrage on her behalf, the grief? Absolutely nothing. All he can do is try and make sure she and her people stay as safe as they can when the time comes. 

Bellamy settles for a wholly inadequate, “That’s pretty messed up.”

“No kidding,” says Maya, mouth curved in an unhappy smile.

“Hey,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder but quickly removing it when she tenses. “We’re going to make this right,” Bellamy tells her, and hopes she knows it’s a promise. “I swear, none of them are going to get away with this. Not while even one of us is still breathing.”

Bellamy breaks off when he realizes Maya eyes are wide in shock. He looks away, face feeling hot in anger and embarrassment. He instead stares at the wall behind her head, trying to straighten his fingers from the fists they’ve curled into. He probably scared her with how crazy he sounded, the intensity of his statement, but it was the truth. Not a lot of people understand this, the desperation with which Bellamy wants to protect what little he has that’s his and destroy everything that puts that in jeopardy.

In fact, when he thinks about, Bellamy can only think of Clarke as the one other person who understands. Remembering her leads to thinking about Octavia, and then about losing Finn and all at once Bellamy feels like he’s suffocating, from the weight of what’s to come and the gnawing, aching loneliness that’s been festering inside from when he was in the Ark, with Octavia behind bars and his mother pushed out into the gaping, endless jaws of space.

Bellamy takes a deep breath, and then another, until he feels like he can say, “Sorry,” without the second syllable disintegrating in his throat. It comes out stiff, discomfited. 

Maya shakes her head.

“No, it’s okay. Thank you, for saying that. For believing it.”

Bellamy nods, awkward, and uncharitably wishes that she would just go away. This is probably why he doesn’t have friends, he thinks sardonically, with the way he’s able to take comfort in someone’s company one moment and then wants them done the next.

The silence that falls is uncomfortable. Maya gazes at him with such shrewd focus that Bellamy feels his hackles rising, one wrong word away from snapping.

“You know, I get it,” says Maya, slowly, still staring at him. “Why each and every one of them would lie down on the ground to die if you told them to.”

Bellamy feels himself move back, shocked, eyes snapping back to her thoughtful face.

“What?” he starts, affronted, and his chest might as well be caving in on itself for the weight he feels pressing down on his heart, suppressing the flow of oxygen through his arteries. “I would never–” 

“You would,” interrupts Maya, and for all the softness in her voice she says those words firmly, as unshakable as the mountain. “You would and you have.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” hisses Bellamy. There’s no way for her to know that and – Bellamy has to look away from her, swallowing against his dry throat because she’s right. 

He _has_ asked them to fight an impossible war, even before the mountain men were in the picture and for whatever reason, they listened. Bellamy’s fully aware that he’s not the right person to hold that kind of power, but at the same time there are so few others he would trust with it. He’ll damage these kids one day; he knows this, even more than he already has. 

He resents Maya for bringing this up at all. At least he’ll try his best, he thinks viciously. At least he knows that however it is that he inevitably ends up fucking it all up, it won’t be intentional. 

But then Maya continues, “I do know, though. I know why they’d do it because I would too, and I’ve only known you for a day.”

Now she’s saying nonsense. 

“What are you even talking about?” he mutters. Exhaustion grips Bellamy’s body and he lets himself lean back against the back of the couch, lets himself close his eyes. 

“I might be doing this because of my mother,” says Maya, “and because it’s the right thing to do. But when the time comes, I’m going to listen to your orders because you’re not going to ask me – ask any of us – to do anything that you wouldn’t do first.” 

She pauses briefly to take a breath. Bellamy envies her because he is frozen where he sits. His lungs burn from the air he is not inhaling.

“You’ll be in the front lines of the war,” she says, finally. “When it comes here, and everyone knows that. Everyone knows that you’d do anything to keep them safe. It's easy to follow a commander who wants his people to fight with him, because he's fighting for them.”

Bellamy doesn’t say anything. He thinks that Maya doesn’t expect him to, and the two of them sit in the strange silence that befalls without Maya’s soft voice spelling out hard truths that Bellamy does not want to process. 

He only consciously realizes that he’s breathing when he hears Maya stand up and feels the slight pressure of her hand on his shoulder, a mirror of the comfort he tried to provide her earlier. 

Bellamy doesn’t normally have trouble meeting the gaze of others – he has too much pride, too much defiance to ever look down or away from shame or a parody of respect – but he obstinately keeps his eyes shut right now. This isn’t the time for such words, for this conversation. 

But it never is, is it? Bellamy makes it a point to never think about it too deeply, the development of the bond he has with his people, the intricate knots that tie them together. Self-reflection is a road that begins and ends in darkness for Bellamy, the weight of every wrong decision he’s made since he shot the previous Chancellor and got his feet on the ground breaking open the carefully constructed dam of stubborn ignorance.

But more than that – Bellamy doesn’t have the time or luxury for regret, to linger in thoughts about undeserved loyalty and the selfish pleasure of receiving it, anyway. Clarke said once that he has to live with what he’s done, and he does. He lives with all his decisions and keeps going forward. 

And tomorrow he’ll go forward again, regardless of whether there is truth in Maya’s words or not, the truth in the devotion in Miller and Monty’s expression as they look at him, in the circle of Jasper and Fox’s arms gripped tight around him.

Bellamy open his eyes to look at Maya when he says, “As long as you know that I meant when I said that I’ll make this right, none of the rest matters.”

“As long as _you_ know we’re behind you every step of the way, even after this one battle is done,” says Maya, “none of the rest matters.” She pats his shoulder once more and says, “Thanks for the chat, Bellamy,” before heading for the narrow hallway that leads to the bedrooms.

Bellamy has to clear his throat, and when he speaks, his voice still comes out rough: “You turning in?” 

“Yeah, there’s a Level 8 security system on the door that Dad installed earlier, so that’s one cause of stress gone.” And because Bellamy is learning fast that she is not one to let anything go, she gently adds, “And you being our first line of defense makes me think that the other ones will be gone soon enough, too. Have a good night."

Maya turns off the main lights as she goes. Bellamy was certain that he wouldn’t be able to actually sleep tonight, too much anxiety and adrenalin running free in his veins, but he must be more tired than he thought: he’s out between one blink and the next, and his slumber is a peaceful one.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading! :D


End file.
